


It All Started With A Snap

by desk_mess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), M/M, Panic Attacks, Stressed Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desk_mess/pseuds/desk_mess
Summary: Crowley always snapped upward, drawing power up from Hell. Aziraphale always snapped downward, drawing power down from Heaven. What happens when both stop working and the opposite direction doesn't work? Chaos.**IMPORTANT**: There are some descriptions/imagery of choking and drowning that happens during a panic attack but idk how to tag for that so yeah, be warned.(Rated Teen for Language and Implications)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea came to me after I noticed a pattern in Crowley and Aziraphale's miracles.  
> I was gonna put this in the endnote but decided it deserves its place up here: I realized after writing the summary that it's kind of inspired by the more recent events in servantserah's Myosotis comic! I highly recommend checking it out! It's so good!  
> servantserah's  
> Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantSerah/pseuds/ServantSerah  
> Tumblr: http://servantserah.tumblr.com  
> And the first page of Myosotis: https://servantserah.tumblr.com/post/188491517767/myosotisau-part-1-i-started-a-good-omens-au-like

Crowley laid on the floor of the bookshop, curled up in fetal position, hands white-knuckled on his calves. He rocked slightly, mumbling short snatches of disbelief. Aziraphale, meanwhile, sat in his armchair, sunk back and staring at the ceiling blankly. He held a crushed and leaking juice box in one fist and his thigh in the other. 

The bell above the shop door rang out but neither being in the backroom responded, far too lost to the deepest pits of panic. One of the patrons called out. "Crowley, we know you're here!" 

"Azzziraphale! Come out! We know you're in here!" Crowley shot up like a rocket at the second voice. He leaned over and shook Aziraphale. Together they peeked out the door. In the centre of the compass was Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub. Beelzebub eyed the shelves when their eyes caught on Crowley and Aziraphale. "There!" They pointed and began running, Gabriel following after. 

Let's rewind. 

* * *

Crowley blinked his eyes slowly, the sweet embrace of sleep trying to pull him back in. He reached a hand up and pulled a length of red hair from out of his mouth before reaching his arms out to stretch. His left arm was blocked halfway by a soft but firm wall. Before Crowley could turn to look, a pair of plush, warm lips left a gentle kiss on his wrist. Crowley smiled and turned to look. "Mmm mornin', he sighed. Aziraphale pecked Crowley's wrist again before moving it away so he could swing his legs off of the bed. 

"Good morning, darling," Aziraphale replied, grabbing a demon-winged mug and offering it to the sleepy demon. Crowley pushed himself up and took it happily, the heat of the coffee seeping through the ceramic and into his frigid fingers. Aziraphale leaned in, taking Crowley's cheek in his hand. The angel merely stared for a moment, eyes soft and radiant with all the adoration in his heart. He laid a tender kiss on Crowley's temple then stood up, straightening his waistcoat. Eventually, Crowley would convince him to sleep like a normal person instead of staying up all night reading. Eventually. 

"I have to go open up the shop," Aziraphale explained (speaking like he was addressing a particularly adorable kitten), as though they didn't go through this wonderfully mundane routine every day. "Whenever you feel up to it, can you run down to the bakery? The usual?" Crowley nodded with a smile, watching the angel grab his tailcoat from its hook and opening the door to flee down the stairs. 

Crowley finished off his coffee, raising his empty hand and snapping to send the mug to the kitchen sink. It didn't budge. He snapped again. Oh well. He'd just have to carry it out. He stood up and crossed to the wardrobe, taking out a black tank-top and a thick, black knit sweater with burgundy cuffs. Sure, red was the "traditional" demonic colour (whatever that meant), but purples suited him  _ just fine _ . No matter what those jerks in Head Office thought. Because  _ screw them _ , he didn't work there anymore! Stickin' it to the man! It could be worse! He  _ could _ be wearing white! You know what? He was gonna wear white. The demon Crowley was going to wear white and there was  _ nothing  _ anyone could do about it. 

Crowley pulled the sweater back off over his head and hung it back up. Aziraphale had plenty of sweaters to choose from, all of them much too big on Crowley. He pulled out the largest sweater he could find. It was knit like the black one but it was cream coloured. Close enough to white, he supposed. Crowley threw it over his head and pulled it down. The neck fell down over his shoulder and he left it. The bottom hem reached about a quarter of the way down his thighs. 

Now Crowley turned to the dresser and rifled through his drawer. At the very bottom, a sliver of eggshell coloured fabric caught his eye. He pulled the pair of winter leggings out and laid them on top of the dresser. Moving up a drawer, he shuffled through all the pairs of black socks before he found a pair of thick, slightly yellowed, thigh-highs from the 1930s. He pulled them out and ran the lint roller over them, picking out the black fluff from his socks. Lint rollers were one of his favourites. Yeah, they were useful for lint (of course), cat hair, dog hair, human hair. But get them stuck in hair still connected to you? Oh, that was Hellish. Absolutely Hellish. Especially the modern, heavy-duty ones. And don't get him started on getting them stuck in  _ long _ hair. Crowley returned to the task at hand, putting down the lint roller after glaring at it in contempt. It knew better than to so much as  _ think _ about touching his hair. 

Crowley sat on the floor to get his feet through the leggings. They were rough against the scales on his feet but he'd live. In fact, wearing these  _ felt _ like scales which made them all the more comfortable. He pulled on the thigh-highs but only up to his knees, letting them bunch up like leg warmers. Now that he looked at them, the thigh-highs had slightly tanned, not yellowed like he first thought, but not enough to be a dangerous contrast. He crawled over to the closet, glad that Aziraphale had swept yesterday. The amount of book dust even up here in the flat was  _ insane _ . 

From the bottom of the closet, Crowley pulled out a nice pair of heeled boots. The crushed white velvet was rough but shiny and the insides were, dare he say, Heavenly warm. Crowley grabbed them and made his way over to the chair next to the vanity, not quite ready to see himself. He pulled the boots on and zipped them up. They were snug with the knit socks but that just made for better balance. They also gave him a little cushioning against the worn-down insole. He set his feet on the ground and shimmied a bit before standing up. These heels were about two inches shorter than his preferred heels. The socks let gravity take them and they fell down over the boots to the top of the heel. 

At last, Crowley turned to the vanity mirror and faced the upper half of his outfit. The black of his tank-top showed through the knit of the sweater but not enough to be worrisome. Other than that, everything was as anticipated although his hair was still a rats-nest. He grabbed the brush from the vanity and brushed his hair out. It fell down to his shoulders. Suddenly an idea came to him. He pulled open Aziraphale's drawer and grabbed a white handkerchief with thin, red trimmings. Crowley folded up the handkerchief into a bandana and tied it around his head like a hairband, letting the tie rest on the opposite side of his bare shoulder. Tightening it, he turned back to the vanity. Perfection. 

* * *

The stairs didn't take terribly kindly to the white block heels and splintered obnoxiously under the pressure point. When Crowley reached the bottom, he raised his hand and snapped. The wood stayed splintered. He snapped again. Nothing. It was starting to become worrisome. 

Crowley heard a familiar gasp and a sudden clatter behind him and spun. Aziraphale stood staring at him, an empty tea tray at his feet. The angel reached out to Crowley, flexing his fingers while Crowley laughed. "Yes, angel?" He stepped closer and took Aziraphale's hands only to be pulled roughly forward into his arms. Without heels, Crowley was only a couple inches taller than Aziraphale but with these, he was tall enough to lay his chin on top of the angel's fluffy white hair. Crowley moved a hand up to run it through those dashing curls, his other hand trapped in Aziraphale's. Crowley tried to pull away but the angel only hugged him tighter. It was then that Crowley realised Aziraphale was shaking and smelled faintly of alcohol. "Angel, what's wrong?" Crowley pulled away enough to tilt Aziraphale's face towards him. The angel's eyes were red-rimmed. He'd been crying for a while. "Zira, why didn't you come get me? What's wrong?" Aziraphale looked away, mumbling incoherently. Crowley brought his face back up. "Hmm?" 

"C'n't do mir'cles 'ny more." 

"Are you sure? Is it because you're drunk?" Crowley ran through his head all the scenarios that would've caused them both to lose their miracle abilities. None of them ended particularly happily. In fact, all of them ended in extinction. 

"Mm 'ts why 'mm drin'n'." Crowley led Aziraphale over to the couch and sat down beside him. When the angel reached for the mason jar next to them, Crowley took it away, putting the lid back on and getting a strong whiff. That was definitely American backwoods moonshine.

"No, no, no. No more," Aziraphale whined at him, trying to reach for the jar but only finding a faceful of rug. "You're far enough gone as it is," Crowley said as he slipped down next to the angel laying face down on the rug. Crowley set down the moonshine out of reach then moved his hands to Aziraphale's armpits, trying to get him to sit up. "C'mon, work with me here." Giving up, Crowley just rolled him over so he wouldn't suffocate. He had a feeling if either of them got discorporated right now it would end badly for both of them. 

"How much have you had to drink, Aziraphale?" The angel in question mumbled a bunch of numbers in a vague semblance of order and Crowley translated that as "a whole blasted lot" and sighed. Brain kicking into action, Crowley ran through what he'd learned from watching drunk humans in bars. They ate, drank, vomited, passed out... and some even ended up in hospital. With a jolt he sat up, suddenly remembering the existence of alcohol poisoning. Without access to miracles, there was no way to alter their metabolism or even reverse their drunkenness.  _ Shit! _ "Alright, angel, I want you to listen." Aziraphale's head turned to Crowley, eyes unfocussed.  _ Still responsive. _ "I can't do miracles either," he paused to let it soak in before continuing. "So. We're going to try and sober you up the old fashioned way. Then, we're going to try and figure this out." Aziraphale hummed as he spoke. Crowley patted his hand.  _ Slightly colder but not by much. _ "Good. So what are we gonna do?" 

"Mmm sober," Aziraphale murmured. Crowley sighed. That was probably the best he was gonna get. In less than half an hour, Aziraphale had gotten drunker than when they drank for a solid six hours. That was concerning. But what was more concerning was alcohol poisoning. Crowley stood up and Aziraphale attempted to follow but only succeeded in flopping over on his hand. Crowley pushed him over with his boot. 

"Promise me you won't drink any more while I'm gone." Aziraphale nodded. "Angel?"

"Pr'm'se," Aziraphale rolled onto his side. "C'mfy." 

"And stay on your side, angel, we don't want you choking." With that, Crowley rushed for the door and made his way outside. He pulled out his phone as he walked down the street, double-checking the information he had to work off. Instead of the bakery, he headed for the grocery and sighed. "Oh, Aziraphale." 

* * *

When Crowley returned to the bookshop almost two hours later, Aziraphale had fallen asleep. Crowley dropped the bags he was carrying and fell down next to Aziraphale. He shook the angel who groaned at him. "Go 'way." Never had Crowley been more glad to hear that from the angel. 

"Angel, I need you to sit up, okay?" Crowley pulled Aziraphale up and this time his feet came with. Crowley leaned him up against the corner of the couch and desk. Aziraphale was still watching him with foggy eyes. Crowley ripped into a package of juice boxes and opened one, holding it to Aziraphale's lips. "Slow sips, Zira, slow." After a few minutes, he let Aziraphale take the box. "I need to go make some food for you, okay? I'll just be in the kitchen." Aziraphale nodded and by the look on his face, regretted it. Crowley grabbed his bags and headed for the kitchen. 

Now, Crowley had been in a lot of kitchens before. But never once had he attempted to cook. The reason? He never ate unless he was too drunk to sober up and at that point, no one wants you  _ near  _ a kitchen. So this was completely new territory. The sweet potatoes he knew he'd have to cook. The bananas were soft enough on their own they could be eaten already. Luckily he had the power of the internet on his side. 

Ultimately he ended up shedding the sweater since the sleeves were so long (and he didn't want to deal with Aziraphale if he stained it). The sweet potatoes were cooked and mashed to a consistency that Crowley hoped Aziraphale would swallow. The bananas he set aside for later. Crowley returned to Aziraphale who was on a second juice box, staring at the ceiling. Crowley sat down next to the angel and sighed. Aziraphale looked down at the bowl of orange mush. 

"Wozzat?" Crowley would have laughed had this been any other situation but instead he lifted a spoonful of the mashed sweet potatoes. 

"Food. We need to get some carbs in you to soak up all that alcohol so you don't discorporate." Crowley held the spoon to Aziraphale's lips and slipped it in. Aziraphale hummed as he swallowed. 

"'S good," he mumbled. He took the small ceramic bowl from Crowley and sat up straighter. Crowley just sat and watched the angel as he sipped his juice and ate his potatoes. All that research seemed to be paying off. While Aziraphale definitely wouldn't be sober anytime soon (judging by about a quarter of the jar of moonshine being emptied), he was getting there very, very, very, excruciatingly slowly. 

"I bought some bananas and some soft bread for later once you're a little more stable." Aziraphale just hummed. "You are so going to be feeling this later." Crowley got up and grabbed the few bottles of alcohol in the vicinity before placing them back in the liquor cabinet. He locked it up this time, not trusting Aziraphale who was now swaying and humming. "Hey!" Aziraphale stopped and looked up. "Don't go makin' yourself sick." Aziraphale nodded, winced, and continued sipping his juice. 

Crowley continued tidying up before his eyes locked on the jar of moonshine. He really wanted to. He really, really wanted to. Crowley grabbed a shot glass from an end table and poured a few tablespoons of moonshine into it before locking the jar in the cabinet. He set the shot glass back on the table then went back to the kitchen, grabbing a banana and a couple pieces of bread. When Crowley returned, he found Aziraphale trying to climb up into his armchair. Crowley set down his carbs and helped Aziraphale up, bringing over the rest of the juice boxes. The bowl was already on the desk and being delved into. Crowley rolled his eyes with a smile and pressed a kiss to the back of Aziraphale's head. 

Crowley sat against the bookshelf next to Aziraphale after grabbing his food and shot. He saved the bread for later and broke off a bit of banana for Aziraphale before indulging himself. When he finished, he threw back the shot and wheezed at the burn in his mouth. No wonder Aziraphale was so far gone! How did humans withstand that stuff? 

It didn't take long for a buzz to kick in. But with that buzz came the creeping vines that were panic, squeezing his chest and piercing his lungs. This is why he tried not to drink hard liquor without Aziraphale cognizant enough to supervise. 

Sinking dread flooded his chest at what was to come. Without a doubt they would be found. He could only hope that it was by humans. Maybe even a compassionate angel or demon but as far as he knew, Aziraphale and himself were the only ones. There would be no escape. There never was one to begin with. 

Crowley was pulled down into a quicksand pit of fear and confusion and dread, and it was up to his chest by the time he realized it. He tried to thrash, to escape but he'd sunk far too deep. There was no ground. There was no solid muscle, fat, or bone to grab a hold of, to pull him up. No tartan collar, no powder blue dress shirt, no fawn waistcoat, no golden pocket watch. There was no Aziraphale. He couldn't sink now, not when Aziraphale might need him. Aziraphale was here somewhere, Crowley knew it, he just had to find him! He couldn't,  _ wouldn't, _ let the angel drown. He was far too good for this Earth, this Heaven, this galaxy, this  _ universe _ , and Crowley would never let him die, not if he could help it. He fought even more valiantly as he heard Aziraphale snuffling and shifting nearby but he couldn't see,  _ he couldn't see! _ He turned every which way but there was nothing but the all-consuming darkness of the thickening blanket of quicksand over his eyes. He felt himself tip over onto the floor but he couldn't  _ see! _

They were coming for them. Heaven and Hell were after them. They'd discovered the swap and they were after them. They took away their miracles and made Aziraphale panic enough to drink himself half to death. They were going to take them and kill them and Crowley couldn't do a thing about it because he couldn't  _ see _ , he couldn't  _ hear _ , couldn't  _ feel _ ! 

Crowley reached out in the only way he could now but he felt nothing in the halos. He couldn't feel the warm effervescence of Aziraphale's angelic baby blue halo. He couldn't even feel his own demonic red one. He reached out towards his wings, black as coal, as night, as space, but they weren't there either. He put his mind to shifting forms but nothing changed and he  _ still couldn't see! _

Crowley tried flicking out his tongue, but it didn't budge. They must've gotten them. Must've put them in a forcefield that took everything away. They found them in a moment of weakness and took them and trapped them and took everything away from them, took away  _ each other _ ! 

Distantly Crowley heard the crumpling of cardboard. He reached for it. 

He reached as far as he could but the sound was gone and he couldn't find it again, couldn't find up or down or left or right. He was in a vacuum. 

The vacuum of empty space used to thrill him, the creation of stars on his mind and the heat of it flaring in his fingertips. Now it terrified him. The holy light that had kept him warm and unafraid back then had long since been burnt out. 

Then he realized.

_ He couldn't find Aziraphale. _

He couldn't find Aziraphale and it was all his fault because he let himself break down, let himself be pulled under, and now that Hellhole they called Heaven had his lover and  _ he couldn't save him, he- _ ! 

"-Ziraphale! Come out! We know you're in here!" Crowley bolted upward, eyes springing open. Out in the shop, he could hear the droning of Beelzebub's voice. Crowley got up on his knees and shook Aziraphale who seemed to be a bit more coherent now. They helped each other to the door and squeezed it open. Rays of orange-gold sunlight cast the floor atop which Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub stood. The two mumbled to each other until Beelzebub locked eyes with Crowley. "There!" The two intruders lunged and Crowley slammed the door and locked it.

"Zira! Run! I'll hold them off!" Crowley dragged a nearby chair over to wedge against the door.  _ He would never let him die, not if he could help it.  _ He turned to see Aziraphale just standing there, staring. "Zira, now is not the time! You need to leave!" 

"No!" Aziraphale threw his foot down and yelled, perhaps louder than intended. 

Crowley collapsed to the floor as the door was blasted open by one of the intruders. Rolling over, he scuttled back on his hands and feet as Beelzebub eyed him like rotten meat. Crowley bumped into Aziraphale who had also been knocked down by the blast. He moved to a crouch in front of the angel. Gabriel, following Beelzebub's lead, tried to reach around Crowley to get at Aziraphale. Crowley lunged and sunk razor-sharp fangs into the Archangel's forearm. Gabriel shook him off, his grey suit coat now sufficiently ruined. 

"Do't 'ou da'e toussshh hi'!" Crowley lisped around the fangs. They'd extended to almost an inch long and were very annoying, especially now, of all times. They shrunk down to a half-inch and he tried again. "Don't you  _ dare _ touch him!" 

"I don't think you have any authority here, Crowley," Gabriel pointed out, his arm now healing. 

"After all, we're the onezz who took your miraclezz so you couldn't escape your exzzecutions this time." 

"You bastards!" Aziraphale yelped, trying to push Crowley aside but instead tipping himself over, right into Gabriel's grasp. Crowley lunged but the two vanished before could get to them. He fell forward on his stomach and Beelzebub tackled him. 

"I am zzo going to enjoy thizz." 

In a flash, the two reappeared next to Gabriel and Aziraphale. Crowley tried to break free from Beelzebub's grasp but they'd already bound him up in red ropes. Likewise, Aziraphale was being tied with white ropes. Crowley's skin burned under his sweater and he looked around, realising they were in the middle of a desert. While he was indeed cold-blooded, wearing a sweater, leggings, and thigh-highs in the desert was still not a good idea. He could only thank Somebody that they were white. 

Beelzebub shoved Crowley forward and he fell to his knees in the sand, Aziraphale face-planting next to him. He didn't get up. 

"Do you think we should sober them up?" Gabriel asked as he pulled Aziraphale up. He just fell right back down again as soon as he was let go. 

"Oh, yezz. This drunk they wouldn't even care. Let'zz make them feel pain." 

"C'mon, I'm not that drunk!" Crowley protested as he felt his buzz receding. Aziraphale took a lot longer. 

"Good  _ Lord _ , Aziraphale, how much did you drink?" Crowley laughed at the Archangel's scrunched up, constipated face. 

"Only about a quarter jar of moonshine," it came out slightly muffled as Aziraphale finally sat up out of the sand. He tried to lift his hands to wipe the sand off his face but they were tied to the ropes around his waist. He looked around, still slightly drunkenly confused. "Oh.... Right," Crowley could see the tears working their way to the creases of the angel's eyes. 

"So pathetic," Beelzebub put a boot to the angel's back and shoved him down again. Crowley lunged at them and knocked Beelzebub to the ground, rolling over them and kicking up sand. Gabriel came up behind him and grabbed him by the sweater, hauling him further away. Beelzebub got up and drug Aziraphale over the burning sand on his stomach. Crowley winced harshly. That could not feel nice. Crowley and Aziraphale sat facing each other now, just close enough that they didn't have to shout. 

Crowley watched from afar as Beelzebub manifested a stake, tying Aziraphale to it. Behind Crowley, chains rattled as they ran through two large cement cinder blocks before clamping onto the demon's wrists and ankles. Crowley had eyes only for Aziraphale, though, which seemed to also be true vice versa. The angel's face was blotchy and red from the hot sand but also glossy with tears. Crowley could barely make out what Aziraphale was mouthing. 

_ I love you. I'm so sorry. _ He repeated it like a prayer which it could very well be. Crowley caught himself mouthing back. 

_ I forgive you. Not your fault. Love you. Love you. Love you. _ Aziraphale shook his head but smiled, continuing with his prayer. Crowley could feel the headache building and decided to just let go.  _ If ya gotta go, go with style. _ Granted he wouldn't quite call this style. The tears hit him like a tidal wave anyways, shocking him and drawing a hiccuping sob from his throat. There was no doubt in his mind that Aziraphale could hear him from here. Especially when the angel's pitiful whine reached his ears. Crowley heard the wood crackling under Aziraphale's struggling but Beelzebub just manifested more faster than the angel could break it. 

"What's taking so long, Archazz?" Beelzebub called. Gabriel huffed. 

"These are a lot heavier than they look!" There was a thump and a whine. "Shit!" Crowley would've snickered. 

"Use a miracle, you dumbazz!" And with that, Crowley found himself in what seemed like a human-sized fish tank. The glass was incredibly clear. He could count every hair on Gabriel's head if he really wanted. Further out was Aziraphale still, Beelzebub watching him. Aziraphale hung his head and Crowley could see Beelzebub clicking their tongue as they tied his neck to the stake, forcing it up. Nodding, clearly getting the idea, Gabriel manifested a metal pole across the fish tank and did the same, cutting off Crowley's air supply slightly. Good thing he wouldn't need it much longer. The thought made him sob, cutting off his air more. 

"Alright! We ready to go, Archazz?" Beelzebub projected their voice over the space, making it bounce around the inside of the tank. By the look on their face, they were doing it intentionally. Crowley was already dizzy by the time Gabriel yelled back. 

"Yep!" Gabriel threw a double thumbs up at them and Crowley rolled his eyes. Seriously. How the  _ Someplace _ was he an Archangel. Gabriel climbed a ladder that leaned against the tank, glass pitcher in hand. Across the space, Beelzebub raised their hand and it ignited. For one last time, Crowley and Aziraphale's eyes met and that unseen, unspoken message once again passed between them. 

The message that could only be said through... 

_...Early morning kisses.  _

_...Carding your fingers through their hair.  _

_...Laying your head in their lap.  _

_...Lending them your handkerchief.  _

_...Huddling together in a rainstorm.  _

_...Late brunches and early suppers.  _

_...Chocolates and flowers.  _

_...Walks in the park.  _

_...The absolute silence of an antiquarian bookshop after six thousand years of waiting.  _

Two pairs of eyes closed. 

_ "I love you." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some points I'd like to make:  
> 1\. That clothing scene is so long and I am so sorry you read it.  
> 2\. I totally have never had a lint roller stuck in my hair.  
> 3\. Moonshine can be distilled up to 95% alcohol. Do not mess with it.  
> 4\. I've never drank alcohol so idk if I really described it okay. Tbh tho, ya barely get any cause Crowley just defaults to panic attack (which I have personal experience with).  
> Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you.


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs maniacally because of the previous cliffhanger*

Aziraphale was the first of the two condemned beings to open his eyes. He stared up at a cloudless blue sky. He didn't feel anything below him that suggested he was laying on something. The air here was thin and wavered in his lungs. Was this death? Staring at an empty sky for eternity? He hiccupped for a moment, remembering Crowley's sobs ricocheting off the golden sand of a barren desert. Aziraphale's face burned for a moment, not only with the heated blush of embarrassment and fear, but with the remembrance of burning sand on his face. Wasn't all pain meant to cease in death? He raised his hand to touch his face, taken aback when he was greeted with skin blackened with patchy soot. In the distance, he picked up the drone of someone's voice. Aziraphale sat up and looked towards the droning. Beelzebub with their black wings stood next to Gabriel with his white wings. Aziraphale patted down his robes as he stood up. They were on cloud matter. The same material Heaven was made of before it industrialized. Where Aziraphale had laid was a splotchy shape of black soot and he looked down, realising that his white robes had hand shaped trails left behind by his pat-down. Aziraphale was distracted by Gabriel's angry voice raising in Aziraphale's direction. 

"You! You did this! You absolute idiot of a Principality! Where are we?" The Archangel yelled, Beelzebub following. Aziraphale looked around again. The cloud matter of the floor was formed into marble-like bricks. There were cloud matter pillars at each corner of the platform. Overall, the area was unfamiliar. Except for the soaking wet, black, grey, and red figure laying at the foot of one of the pillars. Aziraphale wanted to run to him. He wanted to check on Crowley so badly but he was stuck here with an Archangel and a Lord of Hell separating them. 

"I don't know," Aziraphale said truthfully, clasping his hands behind him. They caught on something along the way and he turned to see his folded wings. They were grey. Not white. He hadn't Fallen, had he? Could it just be soot, like everything else? Aziraphale turned back to the other angel and demon. Gabriel was practically fuming, his bluish halo warming up around his head. With a growl, he lunged forward only to be bounced away by a transparent gold forcefield. He landed on his back, his arms having been too slow to catch him. He stood up and ran at the other angel(?) again. The Archangel was once again knocked back, skidding against the ground with the return velocity. Across the platform, a pale yellow hood appeared, the all-seeing eye emblazoned on the front. "God?" Aziraphale asked breathlessly, falling to his knees as She approached. Gabriel and Beelzebub turned to look at Her. She floated towards them, a yellow cloak patterned with the night sky flaring out around Her wavering, snow white body. She stopped before Aziraphale whose head was bent downwards. She laid a gentle, warm hand below his chin and tilted his head up to look at Her. She quirked Her lips at him and the eye on Her hood widened in concern. 

"Stand up, my child," God raised Her hand and Aziraphale followed it upward until he stood eye-to-hood with Her. "There you are, Aziraphale." 

"Hello, Mother. It has been so long." 

"It has, my child. I am sorry you've had to wait so long to see me again." 

"Again?" Gabriel yelled, spluttering indignantly. God turned to him. "What do you mean 'again'?" 

"I mean what I said, Gabriel. Why are you so surprised?" God removed Her hand from Aziraphale's chin and moved to float by his side, facing the wall made of Archangel and Lord of Hell. 

"Wh- How come he gets to see you and I don't? He's just a Principality! I'm an Archangel, I should get to see you far more than him! If anything, he shouldn't get to see you at all!" Gabriel seemed to realise rather suddenly that he was yelling at the top of his lungs at his Mother. He shut down his rant with a snap. 

"What you forget, Gabriel, is that Aziraphale couldn't move up. If he could, he would be a Seraphim by now. I had to keep him at a lower ranking to keep him on Earth with Crowley. Gabriel, you are an Archangel, this is true, but Archangels are meant to serve their Principalities." 

"That's not true and you know it!" Gabriel's resolve was beginning to crumble. 

"But it is, Gabriel. Lucifer's rebellion threw a wrench into the whole of Heaven's hierarchy. I left you with your titles after the Fall, but do you remember how it was back then?" 

"Well, no." 

"That's because you shouldn't. I have my reasons for everything, Gabriel. Before the Fall, Aziraphale was your superior. Why do you think you, Sandalphon, Uriel, and Michael act as his bosses? Have you never found that strange?" 

"M-mother?" Aziraphale asked quietly, his tears seeping into his voice bit by bit. God turned to him and laid a gentle hand on his which were fiddling at his front now. "Why? Why did you change it?" 

"Oh, my child, do not cry!" God reached Her hand up and wiped away his tears. "I have seen this meeting since before I created time. The Great Plan was no one's to know. The Great Plan was never to start Armageddon! It was for you and Crowley to work together to stop it! I've long since grown fond of humanity, as have you and Crowley. I couldn't bear to see them destroyed! Satan's also grown fond of the humans. He sacrificed his body to protect humanity. He  _ let _ Adam destroy him. He knew that the war would never end if it started." Beelzebub stepped forward, pushing Gabriel aside. 

"What doezz thizz have to do with anything?" They tried to keep their voice down but failed. 

"And why was Crowley never promoted?" Aziraphale added. 

"Oh I know that! It'zz becauzze he wazz too nizze!"

"This is partially true but back to your question, Beelzebub. Satan allowed me to take credit for the creation of all life and in return we had an agreement. We would plant doubt into Lucifer's mind and he would begin the Fall. Crowley was just unfortunate enough to be pushed down with them. He burned purely because he was faithful to me. He hates me for what happened. The best I could do since I could no longer communicate with him was to allow him to stay on Earth. He was always a lover of beauty. 

"Part of our agreement was that if Eve succumbed to Crowley's temptation, we would form an alliance. I was naive and arrogant. I believed my humans would never stray from my righteous path. I believed they were perfect in every way. But Eve fell to the temptation. Satan now had his grasp on my humans. The only problem with this Plan was that our respective denizens hated each other. An alliance couldn't be formed without, at least, a tolerance for each other. So, I planted Aziraphale on Earth. 

"Satan and I hoped that Aziraphale and Crowley could set an example. But Crowley was still faithful to me, too good. And Aziraphale had reasoning, he was too bad according to how I thought humans should be. Our 'example' ultimately failed. We had a backup plan on the burner, though. Armageddon. We hoped to never invoke it but once we realised our representatives couldn't be used as an example, we had to. We needed Armageddon to force Aziraphale and Crowley into the example we needed. That Heaven and Hell could work together without trying to kill each other. But we see where that got us now." God gestured to Aziraphale's sooty clothes and the soaking wet lump that was Crowley across the platform. 

"For millennia Satan and I have waited for this day. Aziraphale and Crowley are just the beginning." God touched Aziraphale's grey wings gently, reverently. "It was only by chance that they fell in love. But I must say it is something beautiful." Gabriel and Beelzebub were left behind to stew as God took Aziraphale's hand and brought him over to Crowley. God laid a gentle hand on the demon's cheek and he sighed, opening his eyes. 

"M-Mother?" He asked softly, akin to how Aziraphale had whispered it in shock. God smiled down at him and helped him to sit up.

"Yes, my child," She shifted his hair out of his eyes. 

"Why did you leave me?" Crowley asked, anger seeping into his tired voice. "Why did you let me Fall?" 

"Oh, my dear, I never intended for you to Fall. By the time I noticed, I couldn't do anything. I did all that I could to ease your pain but you were so faithful that there was little I could do. Now, you don't have to worry anymore." Crowley looked up at Her, anger simmering. "There was no way to reverse it, my child. I would've in an instant. I am very sorry and I know I cannot repay you. I watched you, though, and kept you safe when Aziraphale couldn't." Crowley's temper seemed to be calming the longer She spoke. "Now I do believe someone else would like a word with you." She tilted his head towards Aziraphale who was standing a few feet away, watching with tears running down his face. Aziraphale watched as the demon's eyes roamed his form before locking on the grey wings spread out behind him. Crowley crawled over to Aziraphale, his own wings dragging heavily across the cloud matter. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so selfish, I'm sorry-" Aziraphale sat down on his knees and laid his hand between Crowley's wing joints. The demon glanced up then shot his eyes everywhere except Aziraphale. 

"Crowley, darling, look at me," Crowley looked up and Aziraphale smiled down at him, a bit of angelic light seeping from his halo and into his smile. "Crowley, we're on our own side." Aziraphale pulled one of Crowley's wet wings forward, touching the grey tips of his feathers to his own. They were the exact same shade. Aziraphale released their wings and laid his hands on Crowley's cheeks, wiping away his tears. "We can't be hurt anymore, love.  _ They _ ," he nodded to Gabriel and Beelzebub who stood before God, both of them looking terrified and distressed. "Can't hurt us anymore. And guess what?" Crowley hummed, raising his hand to place over Aziraphale's. Aziraphale lifted his free hand and snapped. 

A single white lily appeared in his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some points I'd like to make:  
> 1\. Good Omens' God is an asshole.   
> 2\. That whole Plan was absolute bullshittery.   
> 3\. This is a lot shorter than the first one. :/   
> 4\. I actually didn't know the meaning of white lilies when I wrote this so afterward I googled it and. Yeah. They represent purity and rebirth. Dayumn. Accidentally on the nose.   
> Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.


	3. Bonus: Cro's Outfit Doodle

The idea to draw Crowley's outfit hit me hard after writing the clothing scene in Chapter 1. Crowley in white is just *chef's kiss*. 

The link redirects to the post on my Tumblr (desk-mess--arts). 

_**[Liiiiinnnnnkkkkk!](https://desk-mess--arts.tumblr.com/post/641511293794271233/the-idea-to-draw-crowleys-outfit-hit-me-hard) ** _

I've never tried to put an image on AO3 and I really don't wanna try. It seems too difficult.

Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.


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